


Birthday Present

by The_Desert_Dancer



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Birthdays, F/F, Fluff, Gift Giving, Implied Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Desert_Dancer/pseuds/The_Desert_Dancer
Summary: The Sole Survivor's birthday is today, and its a day she'd rather not celebrate. At least until a certain Irish fighter arrives, with a gift in hand. Complete!





	Birthday Present

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys its been a while since Ive written something, I know. I just thought I'd write a small little thing, just to get me back into writing.
> 
> Also massive huge mega Thank You to Iron_Angel for proof-reading this and editing it. She is a legit angel (lol) and I cannot thank her enough for everything she has done for me.

Sleep didn’t come easily to Scarecrow as she stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. The ticking from her clock echoed throughout the room, seemingly growing louder and louder with each passing second. Taking a look outside, the sky was a dark grey and filled with ugly clouds looking ready to burst with rain water. A fitting backdrop for her mood, given that today was her birthday.

Her last birthday, she had spent with family and friends, Nate’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and a wide grin on his face. A day to forget about all the misery and crap of the war. But Nate was dead. As was her sister, her parents, Nate’s family... Everyone she knew. Only Scarecrow was left standing, practically a ghost in a world she didn’t feel like she fit into. 

A creaking sound filled the room, causing the sole survivor to whip her head around in momentary alarm, before she let out a small sigh of relief. Standing in the doorway, a timid smile etched on her weathered face, was Cait. 

Scarecrow had to admit the Irish fighter had been the anchor that she needed as she tried to adjust to this fucked-up new world. And a woman that, in time, became as important to her as Nate had been in the world that no longer existed.

The relief quickly morphed into confusion, however, as she noticed the package in Cait’s hands. It was small and covered in what looked like old newspapers, sloppily taped with small bits of duct tape.

“Listen, treasure... I know you ain’t a big fan of your birthday,” Cait started, “but I still got ya somethin’.”

“Um, how did you even know?” Scarecrow inquired, eyeing the package. “I haven’t told anyone when my birthday is.”

“Oh, I had to drill that old bucket o’ bolts for the info,” Cait explained, shrugging her shoulders. “Took a bit, but finally managed to squeeze it outta him.” She held it out. “Now please open it, treasure.”

Scarecrow stood there silently for a few seconds, biting down on her lower lip so hard she could taste the coppery hint of blood. She had in all honesty expected to celebrate today by doing nothing and just letting it pass. But Cait, that wonderful pain in the ass, had to go and throw a wrench in her plans, didn’t she. 

Scarecrow took the gift and began to unwrap it. 

Cait stood watching, rubbing at her arm nervously and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m sorry it ain’t much... I tried to find somethin’ you’d like, and I was pretty sure you’d like this. I mean, Nicky said as much that you’d love it…”

Cait’s words slowly faded to nothing as Scarecrow focused on the present in her hands. 

The pages had turned yellow and the cover had a big stain on it, but it was unmistakable what it was: a pre-war copy of Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper; a book she devoured constantly as a teen. 

Scarecrow gently flipped the book open and scanned the pages, nostalgia washing over her like great tidal waves. Memories flashed through her mind of a young girl hiding under a massive oak tree with a pile of books next to her and a grin on her face. A place where there was no stress, or war, or constant threats of death. Just a place where a child could focus on reading and ignore all the problems in the world.

“Shite, are ya cryin’?!” Cait exclaimed, shaking Scarecrow from her train of thought. “Fuck, I didn’t wanna do that! I thought you’d like it!”

The sole survivor wiped at her face, surprised and puzzled at the wetness she found there. Shaking her head at herself, she walked over and enveloped the Irish fighter in a tight hug, resting her head on Cait’s shoulder. Cait froze for a few seconds, still a bit uncomfortable from physical contact, before hugging her lover back.

“Cait, you beautiful woman… This… This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Thank you, thank you so much!”

“Ah shite, please don’t start with all that gooey crap,” Cait huffed, trying and failing to hide her smile. “Otherwise I’m gonna start blubberin’ like a baby, too.”

Scarecrow’s tears turned into small giggles as she untangled herself from the redhead to place the book on a nearby table. Then she turned back, placing her hands on the woman’s waist. “After all you’ve done for me, I feel like I need to give you a present as well,” Scarecrow said softly, placing a gentle kiss on Cait’s forehead. 

“Why treasure, ain’t you in a givin’ mood today?” Cait chuckled, a wide grin spreading across her lips.


End file.
